


Indulgent

by fhartz91



Series: Klaine Advent 2018 [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Humor, Husbands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 15:57:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/fhartz91
Summary: It's date night, and Kurt and Blaine are parked, indulging in some very un-adult behavior ... when they attract the attention of a cop.





	Indulgent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunshineoptimismandangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineoptimismandangels/gifts).



> Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompt deputy/paper, and dedicated to sunshineoptimismandangels who said that she could eat my last one-shot up ;)

“Mmmm … God …” Blaine licks his lips, panting in the chill air of his BMW “… that’s it right there … that’s _so good_!”

“Yeah.” Kurt shifts his weight, unbuttons his pants. “It’s … a little _too_ good. If we’re not careful, we’ll want to do this _every_ night.”

“And what’s wrong with that? We’re adults. We pay taxes. We deserve to indulge every now and then … do something a little taboo.”

Kurt tilts his head back and swallows hard, eyes shut with pure pleasure. “Because we’re _parents_. We’re supposed to be good role models.”

“We _are_ good role models …” Blaine says, smiling wickedly “… when they’re _awake_.”

“And you don’t think we’re being a little bit selfish?”

“Of course we are.” Blaine slips a sticky finger between his husband’s lips. “But we deserve to be selfish every once in a while.”

“You’re right.” Kurt licks his husband’s fingertip, then moves greedily on to the next. “We’re allowed. We … we deserve this.”

“Absolutely.” Blaine reaches over the center console towards his husband’s lap. “Whenever, and _wherever_ , we want.”

 _Knock-knock-knock_. “License and registration.”

Kurt and Blaine stop in their tracks.

“Is … is that …?” Blaine whispers.

“A cop?” Kurt hisses, his voice petering out to a thin rattle in his throat. “I’d have to say yes! I told you this was a bad idea!!”

“Hello?” The officer knocks again. “Can you hear me in there?”

“Uh, yes.” Blaine fumbles with the switches on his door, but eventually finds the one that rolls down his window, forgetting that Kurt’s pants are unbuttoned, and that his had been well on their way. “Yes, sorry. We’re … we were just … I’m sorry …”

“License and registration,” the officer repeats, looking sternly at Blaine, then at Kurt, who waves, trying his hardest to smile politely.

He prays he looks innocent, but he figures it’s best not to hope for too much.

Blaine fishes his license out his wallet, then reaches for the glove compartment to get his registration. “Is everything alright, Officer …?”

“ _Deputy_ Davis.” He takes Blaine’s ID and his paperwork, and reads them over closely. “There’ve been some home invasions around here as of late. People get a little jumpy when they see a car parked that they don’t recognize.”

“Oh.” Blaine sighs in what Kurt feels is premature relief. “That’s … that’s a shame. We didn’t know.”

“According to this, you guys live a few blocks from here.”

“Yes, sir. We do.”

“So may I ask why you’re parked _here_ at two in the morning?”

“Well …” Blaine begins, but the deputy leans forward and peers further into his car. He looks at the backseat, then at Kurt again. He takes a deep sniff and nods his head.

“You gentlemen have kids?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, finding enough voice to help his husband out. “Three.”

“They’re at home with a sitter,” Blaine rushes in. “It’s date night.”

“I see. I think I’m beginning to understand what’s going on here.” He hands Blaine back his things, squinting curiously at something sitting in the shadow between the two men. “Do you happen to have any glazed?”

Kurt and Blaine look down in unison at the box of donuts they’d been voraciously tearing into seconds before. “Yes, sir. We got them at Pearson’s.”

“On the corner of 8th and Grand?”

“Yes, sir,” Kurt says. “Right when they opened.”

“Would you like one?” Blaine offers, lifting up the box.

“Yes, please.”

“Help yourself.”

Deputy Davis reaches into the box and picks out the offered pastry, partially wrapped in a square of wax paper. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Blaine says.

“Anything for our boys in blue,” Kurt says, cringing inside the now freezing car, a chill shooting down both legs through his open fly.

“I suggest you gentlemen get home,” Deputy Davis says. “And the next time you guys want to sneak sweets from your kids, I would recommend parking in front of your own house. Just to be on the safe side.”

“Will do,” Blaine says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“That’s alright. Have a nice day.”

“We will,” Kurt says, too embarrassed to sink into his seat and disappear the way he wants to.

Kurt and Blaine watch as Deputy Davis gets into his car and drives away, stunned into silence by that whole interaction. But after a few minutes of staring at the darkened street, Blaine asks: “Was that as hot to you as it was to me?”

“I believe so.”

“Great.” Blaine turns on the ignition and puts his car into gear. “Let’s go home and work off these donuts.”

 

 

 


End file.
